


In-Laws

by JenniferJF



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Family, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-18
Updated: 2012-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 20:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/254796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferJF/pseuds/JenniferJF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Families, however they're defined. Can't live without 'em.  But, sometimes, couldn't you just slap them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This ones for me beta, born out of an IM conversation in which she said, "Oh. You have to write it!" So I did...

"Listen up, you, 'cause I'm only going to say this one more time. One. More. Time," she repeated, accentuating each word with a wag of her finger. "It might have been okay that first time. And you  _were_  a bit out of control. And it wasn't even really my shed. But  _now_..."

She paused to catch her breath before continuing, " _Now_  there's really no excuse for this kind of behavior. After all, there are plenty of other places to settle in the garden which do  _not_ involve destroying _anything_. And really, what had that poor gnome ever done to you? Or the chaise lounge before it? Or the grill? Or the..." Her voice was rising; she was losing control. And while it felt good, she made herself take another deep breath. After all, technically, it  _was_  an innanimate object. "Anyway. You get the idea. And it has to stop. Now. Look, Rory's even made you a perfectly good concrete patio – and believe me, if you knew what it took to talk him into that – but do you ever use it? No. It's the grass. Or the flowers. Or anything else you can find to crush or knock over or destroy. Every. Single. Time."

"And you should just count yourself lucky, you, that it's never been anything  _really_  important. Anything  _they'd_  miss. Like a tricycle. Or a doll. Or even one of  _them_. Imagine if he popped in for a visit and I had to explain that you'd managed to crush one of his children? Because then  _he'd_  be in here. And then you really would be sorry... 'cause I know how you feel about  _him_. Your mad little thief. But me? Oh. No. It's okay when it's just my things, isn't it?"

She was leaning over the controls now, properly angry. "You're in there somewhere laughing, aren't you?" she asked, glaring up at the central column. "Wherever you are? Having a good laugh over poor..."

"Mother?" Amy spun round to find her daughter standing in the open TARDIS doors. "Who are you talking to?"

"Uhm... Myself?" she suggested.

Her daughter arched an eyebrow and waited, giving Amy's anger time to dissipate, before observing, "The TARDIS would just materialize around them, you know. She'd never hurt the children."

"She'd scare them half to death."

"They'd love it and you know it."

Yeah. Those little buggers probably would. "Still... Can't you...?"

"I've tried, Mother. Honestly. It's just..."

"Yes?"

"You should never have moved back here. I did warn you."

"It's better for the kids. Lots of open spaces. Low crime rates. Great schools..."

"The only hope of escape, Grand Theft Auto... Or Grand Theft Time Lord."

"Don't give them any ideas.  _Any_  of them."

"I probably don't have to... and that's the problem. According to  _her_ ," she said, stepping forward to join Amy and nodding toward the console, "It's also the single most boring place in the whole of the Universe. Especially if you happen to be a TARDIS. And  _especially_ if you happen to be a TARDIS who keeps getting dragged back time and time and time again to the single most boring place in the Universe when all you really want is be absolutely  _anywhere_  else." She patted the controls sympathetically as she concluded.

Amy could have sworn the ever-present engine noise dropped to a satisfied hum at her daughter's touch. Which was more than she wanted to consider at the moment. "And...?" she asked instead.

"Mother... It's just... She really, really,  _really_  hates Leadworth."


	2. Who Must Be Obeyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two tiny ficlettes without even the sense to be true drabbles. Hopefully not a terrible waste of a day off.

Amy found them sitting in the garden, deep in conversation.

"No," the Doctor was saying, "TARDIS."

The infant lying in his lap looked up at him blankly. Well, not so blankly, apparently, for his father quickly repeated, accentuating each syllable, "TAR-DIS."

The child squirmed, tiny fists waving wildly as he began to whimper. Ominously. Truly an oncoming storm. The Doctor, sighing melodramatically, shifted his son to his shoulder. Looking toward the blue box at the back of the garden, a pink plastic leg she preferred not to think about sticking out from beneath it (and, honestly, you'd have thought a pink flamingo would be safe), he explained, "You heard him, dear. Nothing I can do. I  _tried_."

"Tried what?" she asked, finally interrupting the scene.

He glanced up quickly to where she stood by the back door. "He Who Must Be Obeyed, here," he said, indicating the child tucked against him with a nod of his head, "Insists upon being known as Sir William of Leadworth, and she," he continued, nodding toward the TARDIS, "Has other ideas."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It took her a full minute to realize just exactly what it was she was seeing. At first, she'd assumed it was pureed banana. Or maybe even thick applesauce.

And then she realized why they were sitting there across the table from him looking so guilty.

"No. Absolutely not. We discussed this. You  _promised,_ "she reminded them, snatching the bowl away from her infant son. The poor little thing just sat there, looking confused, custard smeared across his face, a fish finger still clutched in his chubby fingers. Grabbing a napkin off the table, she explained as she wiped him clean, "I'd expect no better of  _them_." She paused to glare over her shoulder at his father and grandmother before continuing, "But you...  _You_  I'd hoped would have better sense."


	3. History Repeats

She looked from the "plastic centurion"... the Last Centurion... her father (and how had she ever managed to forget  _him_?)... back to the Doctor. And that absurd hat. The man had seriously outdone himself this time.

Honestly.

Her family.

One of these days, maybe they'd all manage to be real at once.  _And_  free of silly headgear.

Though would she even recognize them then?

Well, she might not be able to do anything about the former, but as for the latter... She'd figured that one out the last time.

Tightening her grip on her pistol, she opened her mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 times in a row from River's perspective. Count 'em.... And twice before that, but sans headgear. Mostly.


	4. Why Amy (Almost) Killed Her Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should probably apologize now. But, honestly, with friends (and family like that)... It's a wonder any of them survive. Her. Or themselves. Actually. And anything else will give too much away.

He found her standing on the patio, staring into the shadows at the back of the garden.

"Amy?" When she failed to turn and look at him, he repeated, "Amy?"

"Don't. Blink," she ordered.

"What?"

Without turning her head, she raised her arm, pointing into the bushes. There, partially concealed in the foliage, he saw it.

A Weeping Angel.

Every muscle tensed. His heart raced. Fight-or-flight gripped him in an instant.

And then he started to laugh.

"What the  _hell_ is so funny about an  _Angel_?" Amy asked, without taking her eyes off it.

Still laughing, he turned to look at her. "Amy... What date is it?"

She stared, unblinking. "April the first. Why?"

"Because... and don't hit me... " he began, taking a step away from her just to be sure, "That angel... is wearing a bow-tie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RedCloakedMaiden on ffnet suggested this follow-up last week and the muses finally decided to agree. Companion to Chapter 13 of my Night Shift story.


	5. Spoilers

A gasp of pleasure, quickly muted. Soft moans mounting in volume and intensity...

Lying next to him in their bed, Amy complained, "We need thicker walls." Her words were barely discernible, drifting up thick and muted through the pillow she'd pulled over her head to muffle the noise.

Then a sharp cry pierced the night, cut off as suddenly as it had come.

Desperately trying to not even think about what had stopped the sound, Rory observed, addressing the ceiling, "You know... when she warned of spoilers... I really, really,  _really_  wish that hadn't also been meant for us."


	6. Debts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He bought them a car and a house. There's something he'd like from them, though.

There was a knock on the front door. "Who on earth?" Rory asked.

It was a reasonable question. They'd only been back, in the house the Doctor had bought for them, for three days and everyone they knew who they'd told had been to visit already. But it also didn't really matter. Amy got up off the couch and went to answer the door.

Standing there on the threshold was the last person in the universe she'd expected to find. Though, in thinking about it, she probably should have. "River!" And her daughter was in her arms before she'd even finished saying her name.

"What...?" Rory began, coming up behind them. He stopped short on seeing who stood in Amy's arms. "Oh. Uhm. Hi, River."

Breaking off her embrace with Amy, River stepped back to smile at him. "Hi, Dad."

He returned her smile. "So...How..." he began, gesturing around vaguely.

Her smile grew wider. "I'm fine."

Rory nodded. "Good. That's... good. Great. Would you like to...?" He waved toward the inside of the house.

Amy rolled her eyes. Taking their daughter by the arm, she led her into the house past Rory. "Don't mind him. Would you like the grand tour?"

"Actually, I've seen it."

"When?" Amy asked.

River laughed. "Two weeks ago, when we painted it. And last week, when the furniture was delivered."

It was Amy's turn to laugh. "Right. I should have known."

Behind them, Rory muttered, "Great."

River stopped halfway into the sitting room. Turning to look over her shoulder at him, she asked, "What's wrong?"

Amy explained, "Rory's still worried I'm going to decide it's all too much and give it back." Then, glancing pointedly at Rory, she continued, "Actually, I think it's his  _car_  he's afraid of losing."

River chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't worry too much about  _that_. The next time he asks you for something, just let him have it, and I think you'll find you're pretty much even." She paused for a moment before smiling enigmatically and adding, almost to herself, "Though, come to think of it, that probably puts him in your debt. I'd hope."

"What do you mean?" Rory asked quietly from behind them.

River smiled brilliantly back at him, and Amy spoke along with her as they told him, "Spoilers."


	7. One of Those Little Antenna Balls Might Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the DVD minsodes. Even saying that may be giving too much away.

“I know, Rory. But a bar that simply tastes like a proper cup of tea isn't at all the same thing. And we are completely out. He needs to land somewhere we can get more.” As she spoke, they finally arrived in the control room only to find it empty.

“Where the hell is he?” Rory grumbled under his breath. Wandering endlessly about the TARDIS corridors in search of the Doctor wasn't his idea of a good time.

“Come on, let's – ” Amy began, heading towards the ramp leading back into the TARDIS interior. She pulled up short, though, at the site of a familiar tweed jacket lying upon the metal floor. And next to it a burgundy bow tie. And next to _that_...

“Is that River's dairy?” he asked, looking from the items on the ground to his wife.

Only Amy hadn't heard him. She was staring down the corridor in front of them. He followed her shocked gaze. “River?” he asked at the same time Amy asked, “Doctor?”

Their daughter and the Doctor sprang apart. Rory tried – really, _really_ tried – not to notice their obvious state of half-dress. Typically, it took the Doctor all of two seconds to regain his composure. Looking from Rory to Amy and back again, he asked, “Amy? Rory? What on earth are you two doing back on my TARDIS?”

“Your...?” Amy began but stopped in confusion.

Rory said nothing. He was too busy trying to gather his thoughts while not noticing his daughter surreptitiously tugging her shirt back down.

River paused in tucking her top back into her jeans. “Wait. Mum, Dad, when are you from?”

“When...we?” Shaking his head to clear it, Rory tried again. “When are we _from_?”

River sighed and took a moment to straighten her clothes before asking, “You just recently left me with the Sisters of the Infinite Schism, didn't you?”

As Rory nodded, River turned to the Doctor, who seemed to be having difficulty with his buttons and, after slapping his hands away, began helping him with his shirt.

“Yeah. So what?” Amy asked.

The Doctor slapped his forehead with his palm, earning him a dark look from River who was still struggling with his buttons. “Of course.”

“Of course what?” Rory could tell Amy was getting close to breaking point and he could hardly blame her.

Gesturing between himself and River, who had finished up and turned back to her parents, the Doctor explained, “We seem have ended up on the wrong TARDIS.” He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Amy asked. “I find you...” She waved at the pair of them, unable to complete the sentence. “And you say, 'Sorry?'”

“ _Very_ sorry?” the Doctor tried again.

Amy wasn't having any of it.

“I can explain --” River tried instead, but the Doctor cut her off.

“No. You can't.”

Now it was River's turn to grin sheepishly. “Yeah, he's right. I can't. Sorry.” She shrugged helplessly. Which was actually a fairly good performance.

“Spoilers?” Rory suggested.

The Doctor snapped his fingers at him. “Yes. Exactly. _Big_ spoilers.” He spread his hands about two feet apart in the air. “Huge. So, let's just say this never happened, shall we, and you two never mention it again. To anyone. And I mean,” he added, his voice deepening as he leaned towards them, “ _Anyone_.”

River rolled her eyes. “He means _him_. Whatever you do, never, _ever_ breathe a word of this to _him_. Okay?” She smiled at her parents.

Amy and Rory nodded. The Doctor clapped his hands together. “O...kay. Good. Great. Thanks!” And, pausing to grab his jacket and tie and River's diary, he headed down the ramp. River followed him. “Until later, then,” the Doctor said as they reached the door.

“Or earlier,” River pointed out to him.

“Yes. Or earlier,” he agreed. Then, shooting one last smile at the now thoroughly confused Ponds (and Rory was not quite so befuddled as to miss the fact that that had probably been the entire point of the little performance he had just observed), the Doctor swept out of the TARDIS, carrying River along with him.

The door had barely closed behind them before it was opening again and the Doctor was stepping back inside. Only rather than the tweed he had been wearing he wore his long green wool coat.

He pulled up short at the sight of them. “Uh... Hullo, Ponds.” He waved, wiggling the fingers of one hand. “Having a nice evening?”

“Not as nice as – Ow!” Damn, but that woman stomped _hard_. And Rory'd planned on using that foot sometime in the next three days.

Smiling sweetly, exactly as if she _hadn't_ just maimed him, Amy answered, “Of course. And you?”

The Doctor painted pictures in the air with his hands as he joined them at the console. “Oh, you know. A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Same old, same old.”

Rory suddenly remembered. “Oh, wait! There _is_ one thing....” He held up the plastic jug he'd forgotten to put down. “We're out of milk.”


	8. Like Mother Like Daughter or Vice Versa

He was clearly not dressed for a night in the TARDIS. No one – as far as Rory knew – would actually choose to sleep in an evening jacket complete with tails. Though he was willing to concede the Doctor might be the only being in the universe who would wear a top hat just for the hell of it.

"See?" Amy whispered loudly to him from their position at the top of the stairs from where they were watching the Doctor dance around the center console. "I told you he was sneaking out at night."

"Yes... but how can you be sure it's with  _her_?"

Amy raised one eyebrow at him. "Dressed like that?"

Rory shrugged. "Okay. You're probably right."

"Probably?" Amy whispered. Then, more loudly, "So, Doctor, where are you and River off to tonight?"

The Doctor spun round suddenly at the sound of her voice. He stared at them blankly for just the briefest of moments before asking in a voice several octaves higher than usual, "River?"

Amy just crossed her arms and stared.

"What...?" The Doctor's squeaked. He took a deep breath and swallowed before continuing with his voice dropped back into its normal range, "What makes you think I'm going anywhere? And with River?"

Amy continued to stare. After a moment, she relented and turned to Rory. "See?"

Rory nodded. "Yeah. You're right. Of course," he hurriedly added when she opened her mouth to protest.

They turned back to the Doctor. "But why not just tell us, Doctor?" Amy asked. "I mean, we know about the two of you. We were both there – more or less – at the pyramid. We gave our permission, even. Sort of. So why the sneaky now?"

The Doctor reached up to scratch his head underneath his hatband before answering. "Well... You see... I don't  _really_  necessarily always mean to... Or plan to... Or... And, then, when the two of you..." The Doctor's voice trailed off; Rory was fairly certain the man was actually  _blushing._

Amy, however, missed the signs. "When we what?" she asked.

Yes.  _Definitely_  blushing. The Doctor waved his hand vaguely at Amy and Rory. "You know..." Then, giving up, he turned to the console and hissed, "See? I t _old_  you. Thicker. Walls. But, no. You thought it would be funny, didn't you?"

As it turned out, Amy could blush just as deeply as the Doctor. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, and then, turning on her heel, quickly left the control room. But at least she never again dragged Rory out of bed in order to find out what the Doctor was up to with his nights.


	9. Happy Christmas, Mum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for The Doctor, the Widow, and the Wardrobe.

"What on earth?" Amy asked, opening the box and pulling back the tissue to reveal her gift.

"It's a water pistol," Rory observed unnecessarily as she took it out of the box.

Their daughter nodded at them from where she sat next to the tree distributing presents. "Yes, it is."

"But...Why?" Amy turned the small brightly colored plastic over in her hand, studying it.

"I thought it looked like fun." River shrugged. "Besides. Never know when you'll find a stray cat on your doorstep. Great things for strays. Or morons..."

"What?" Amy asked. She hadn't caught the last word; River had muttered it under her breath.

"Oh... Nothing."

"Around here, it's more likely to be annoying carolers." Rory pointed out.

Amy brandished her new toy in her hand. "Yeah." She looked back at her daughter, grinning. "Thanks, River."

"You're welcome." River laughed. "Happy Christmas, Mum."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

After wiping off his cheeks, the Doctor followed Amy and Rory into their house. As he entered the dining room behind them, River smiled up at him from her place at the table. "Hello, sweetie. Happy Christmas." Indicating the roast she was carving out onto four plates, she added, "You were almost late. Again."

"River...  _You're_  here?" he managed to stammer out after a second.

She rolled her eyes and passed him his plate. "Well, of course, dear. It's  _Christmas_."


	10. Torches

Some times – at  _these_  times – the Doctor considered the possibility he really might be mad. He'd had plans for the evening, after all. Good plans. Plans which most certainly did  _not_  involve crawling around on his hands and knees on the ground. How did he always end up in these situations, anyway?

"No. There's nothing there," he called back over his shoulder after a minute's examination of the narrow space in front of him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

" _Really_  sure?"

He sighed and pressed himself further into the ground, slanting his torch to illuminate more of the shadowed recess as he craned his neck awkwardly to get a better view. "Nope. Nothing there," he repeated.

He was sure he had only imagined the scuttling sound as the light swung forward.

He  _really_  hated rats.

But there were no rats here. He was certain of that. Well...  _Mostly_  certain. But the important thing, at the moment, was that there were no  _monsters._  Neither under the cupboard he'd just checked or the bed he'd examined a few minutes earlier.

"Okay. If you're sure."

Which was, of course, what he'd told her to begin with. He pulled himself up off the floor and, straightening up, turned back to her. "See? Told ya. Think you can go back to sleep now?"

She nodded up at him from where she'd perched on the edge of her bed to supervise his search. "Yes." Her face broke into a smile made even more precious by a missing front tooth. "Thanks, Daddy."

He grinned down at her. "You're welcome, sweetie. Any time."

And he meant it. For that smile... he'd do anything. Climb any mountain. Swim any sea. Take on an entire army of stone angels with nothing but a torch. Or a Dalek after 2000 years of waiting.

He laughed.

"What's so funny?" she asked from the bed.

"Nothing," he answered. Then, remembering her two younger sisters and a universe full of unsuspecting males, he continued, "Except ... I think... We're gonna need more torches."


End file.
